


Life Sentence

by tj_teejay



Category: Avatar (2009)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 05:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16989027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tj_teejay/pseuds/tj_teejay
Summary: Corporal Jake Sully is hit by a piece of shrapnel and finds himself lying in a Venezuelan VA hospital with a pair of useless legs and a big hole blown through the middle of his life. Pre-movie.





	1. Suck It up

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to dedicate this story to anaithis. You know better than most people what it's like to lie in a hospital bed for too long, and I was thinking about you a lot when I wrote this, even though the reason for hospitalization wasn't quite the same. So here's to speedy recoveries and better times ahead, also for your family!
> 
> This was also party inspired by the story ["Just Another Hellhole" by el spirito](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5622316/1/Just-Another-Hellhole) (I highly recommend you check it out). Please know that I have not been meaning to copy or imitate, I just wanted to explore my own version of these events because this story made me think about what might have happened after Jake was paralyzed and how this would have changed his relationship with his brother. That's what made me take it to my own universe because I hinted at some of these events in my earlier story, "Only Human?". (And I'm posting this with her approval.)
> 
> A huge thank you to goes out J who offered to beta-read this story for me. You've been a great help!
> 
> Just a little remark on the side... We are in the year 2146 or 2147 when Tom is supposed to ship out to Pandora. Why would there still be paper money? (Quote Jake: "... a guy with a gun ends his journey for the paper in his wallet.") Everything else is hi-tech in this era, I honestly can't see people paying cash with paper money anymore. Thus, I'm just gonna ignore canon and rewrite this idea a little. You'll see.

—==''''==—

The ceiling panels had exactly 134 holes. Jake Sully knew this, because he had counted each one. A hundred times over.

He didn't think he could take staying in this hospital room much longer. Thankfully, they had taken him off the heart monitor the day before, so there was no more rhythmic beeping that would keep him awake at night. But if it wasn't the beeping, it was the soft bubble of the oxygen humidifier or the nurse coming in to adjust his pulse oximeter or to change his saline bag.

The only sleep you got in a hospital was the exhausted kind that made your eyes droop just when you wanted to watch something on the vidscreen that you had been looking forward to all day. The kind that made you feel even more groggy after you woke up.

His sergeant had come by after the emergency back surgery. Jake had still been drowsy from the anesthetic and not remembered much, other than the suppressed pity in his eyes. A nurse told him the next day that an ambush on their camp had drawn his squad out again into the jungle. No one had come to visit him since.

He didn't dare look at his lifeless legs. Seeing them without the ability to move them made it more real than he was ready to accept. Maybe this was all just a bad joke. Maybe he'd wake up the next morning and he'd feel something—a tingling at the sole of his foot, a twitch in his big toe. Maybe there was just swelling near his spine that was gonna go down over time, or a collection of fluid that was gonna reduce, or... something. Anything. Anything other than the word he had heard so often in the past three days and had never wanted to hear at all.

Paraplegic.

Just like that, with one little word, they had condemned him to a life sentence.

Fuck! This couldn't be real. "No," he said, sitting up in his bed. He tried to move his legs, but they wouldn't budge, no matter how hard he tried to send the command to his brain. "Dammit, Jake, you can move your legs," he muttered through gritted teeth.

He managed to drag his body to the edge of the bed, ignoring the pain in his lower back. "Come on, Jake," he kept encouraging himself.

"Jake!" the nurse called, rushing into the room. "No, you can't get up. Please."

He lashed about with his arms, ripping the IV out of his arm. "No! Don't you see, I need to get up!"

The nurse tried to push him back into his bed, struggling with him. She managed to push a button on the remote pad on the bedside locker.

It didn't take long for a male nurse to come to her aid. He felt Velcro being fastened around his wrists at either side of the bed. "No!!" he raged. "You can't do this!"

"Jake," the female nurse tried to assuage him, her eyes filled with both pity and anxiety. "You need to calm down. Please!"

"Fuck you!" he hissed, making futile attempts at tugging at his restraints.

The two nurses exchanged glances and half a minute later he felt a sharp sting in the crook of his arm. "I'm sorry, Jake," the nurse whispered.

It took only a few seconds for the world to fade around him into a gray nothingness.

—==''''==—

"Hello?"

Tom Sully looked around. There was no one manning the nurse's station. "Hello?" he called again.

He was about to move down the corridor when a nurse came walking towards him. For a split second, he could see a flash of bewilderment in her eyes, then he realized the source of her confusion. It was so easy to forget when you hadn't seen your brother in over a year.

"You're Jake's twin," she said. "We spoke on the phone."

"Yes." He held out his hand. "Tom Sully. How is he? Can I see him?"

She took him lightly by the arm, guiding him to the waiting area with the ugly, standard issue plastic chairs. "Mr. Sully—"

"Tom," he interrupted her.

"Tom. This won't be easy to hear. Physically, your brother is doing okay, under the circumstances. But we had to restrain him."

Tom's brow creased in confusion. "Restrain? Why?"

"His... condition. He's having a hard time accepting it. He tried to get out of his bed earlier today. He almost fell down. You have to understand, it's for his own safety."

Tom's eyes widened with worry. His throat was suddenly dry. "Can I see him?"

The nurse nodded. "Of course. We also had to sedate him. He's going to be under for another half hour or so."

Tom swallowed. He hadn't known what to expect when he had jumped on the first flight that he could get. But it wasn't this.

—==''''==—

The nurse had brought Tom a chair to put next to Jake's bed. There wasn't a lot of room, VA hospitals usually weren't made for comfort.

A million emotions were passing the baton on to each other in his head, but above all, there was worry and a terrible dread.

Jake looked peaceful, his eyes closed, his breathing flat and even. But Tom knew that the peace was a ruse, a thin-veiled curtain of deception that covered the harsh truth.

He reached out to touch his brother's hand. He could feel the rough calluses in his palm and there was a sudden lump in his stomach.

"Oh Jake," he whispered, squeezing his brother's warm but limp hand.

—==''''==—

They were the longest twenty minutes of Tom's life, but eventually, Jake stirred in his bed. Tom couldn't take his anxious gaze off him.

It took Jake a few seconds to come back to this world. He blinked, confused, then recognized the familiar face that greeted him. "Tom?" he rasped.

"Yes. It's me, Jake-O." He called his brother by his old nickname that they had used as kids.

"No!" Jake said forcefully. "You can't be here. I don't want you to be here!"

Tom flinched and shrank back. "Jake, it's okay."

"No!" Jake yelled. "Nothing's ever gonna be okay. Get out!"

"Jake," Tom could only utter, stunned.

"I want you to leave. Get the hell out!"

The shock was visible in Tom's face. He had never seen his brother so upset. It scared the shit out of him.

"Okay," he whispered in astonished dismay before he stumbled out of the room.

When he returned to the nurse's station, it took the nurse from earlier—her name tag read 'Sally'—a mere two seconds to take in his deathly pale, shocked face.

"Tom, what's wrong?"

"He yelled at me, threw me out. He didn't even want to talk to me." The bewilderment in his eyes grew more intense.

Her voice was empathic and she met his gaze. "I know this sounds cold, but it's not an unusual reaction. Your brother, he's got a lot of pride. He's embarrassed because he feels helpless, out of control. I've seen this before many times."

Tom nodded numbly. "I don't... I... I wanna help him. How can I help him if he won't even speak to me?"

"He will come around, I promise."

She placed her hand on top of Tom's in a comforting gesture. "There's a cafeteria down the hall, in that direction. Get a cup of coffee. I will talk to him."

There was a brief flicker of hope in Tom's eyes. "Okay. Thanks."

She gave him an encouraging smile before he got up and walked in the direction she had indicated.

—==''''==—

Tom. Tom was here! No. Tom couldn't be here!

Jake's thoughts raced. He didn't want him to see him like this, paralyzed, helpless, shackled to a hospital bed. He once more tugged at the restraints. Why were his arms pinned to the sides of his bed in the first place? His memory was hazy, there was so much confusion.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a brown-haired nurse approaching his bed. Sally, he recalled. She had always been nice to him, most of the other nurses were all business, some even gruff and cold.

"Jake, I'll take off the restraints, but only if you promise not to do anything stupid."

He quieted somewhat and slowly nodded. "Okay."

The sharp sound of the Velcro was followed by a strangely freeing sensation. He could finally move his arms. "Why did you put these on me?"

"You tried to get up this morning."

His brow creased in bewilderment. He couldn't remember any of that. "I did?"

She just nodded.

"And my brother, was that trick my mind played on me too?"

"No, he was real all right. Your brother is really here."

"Shit," he whispered.

Sally sat down on the chair next to his bed. "Jake, listen. Your brother, Tom—he's confused. He's just as scared as you. He wants to help you. And no matter how much the thought repulses you, you have to let people help you. You're not going to be able to do this alone."

"Watch me," he muttered.

"Okay. Here's your reality check, Marine, and you're not gonna like it. Your life as you know it ended out there, in the jungle, when your spine was almost severed by a piece of rogue shrapnel. You are lucky to be alive. You are lucky to be lying here, with your wits about you and an injury you can recover from. You are lucky to have family who care about you, who flew 2,000 miles to see you. And if there's anything that you wouldn't want to do in your situation, it's sending them away."

Jake had looked at her intently during her whole speech. The sickening feeling in his stomach was giving way to a heavy lump. The momentary silence was only disrupted by subdued beeping from a room a few doors down the hall.

"Did he leave?" Jake finally asked.

"No, he went to get a cup of coffee. Do you want to see him?"

He swallowed, then slowly nodded. "Yeah," he whispered.

Sally lightly touched his arm. "Good," she smiled at him before she left the room.

He let his head sink back onto the pillow, closing his eyes, letting the hollow dread overwhelm him. What the hell was he gonna do? He was lost, in this colorless room, a sterile airlock bubble between his old life and a terrifying, new one.

He heard a soft, "Jake?" and opened his eyes.

His brother's eyes were trained on him, standing in the doorway, his body in a guarded stance. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," Jake said meekly. He watched in silence as Tom carefully sat down on the chair. "I'm sorry about earlier."

Tom gave him a brave smile. "It's okay."

"No, it's not okay. I was outta line."

"Maybe you were, but it's understandable."

They were both silent for a few moments before Tom asked, "How are you feeling? You in any pain?"

"Not too bad."

"Do you need anything? More painkillers?"

"No, I'm good."

"Have they... have they said anything? About how long you have to stay here?" Tom asked.

Jake shook his head. "The doctors don't really say much. Only come in here, check some stuff, then leave."

"Okay, I'm gonna find someone to talk to." He was glad he finally had some sort of mission, something he could do.

"Did the hospital call you?" Jake asked.

"Yeah, I guess my number was in your emergency contacts or something. I took the first flight down here I could get."

Jake turned his head away from this brother and Tom's heart sank. They had danced around the subject long enough. "Look, Jake, I know this is a lot to digest, but I'm gonna make some calls. They can fix a spine nowadays. I'm gonna find a way to get the money. But in the meantime, I don't care if you can't walk or need a wheelchair or whatever it takes to get you out of here. We're gonna do this together, okay?"

"Tom, this is not your responsibility. _I'm_ not your responsibility," Jake told him, his voice devoid of emotion.

"The hell you aren't!" Tom shot back. "I'm your brother. That's what brothers do, they take care of each other. That's how Mom raised us, both of us. Wouldn't you do the same thing?"

Jake let out a short breath through his nose. Thing is, he wasn't sure if he would. And that stung, more than he wanted to admit. "I don't know," he sighed, still not looking at his brother.

"You know what, it doesn't matter. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, so suck it up."

Jake didn't have the strength to fight anymore, not today.


	2. I Got This

—==''''==—

_A forest, luscious green tree tops, shrouded in mist. He was flying over them, gliding like an eagle who just spread his wings and let the wind carry him. The trees came closer, he was gliding lower and lower, banking left and right to dodge leaves and lianas. It was exhilarating. He was free. This was great. So great that he wanted to scream in pure joy._

And then, suddenly, the forest was gone, replaced by glaring white neon lights and a slight tugging at his arm.

A male nurse he'd never seen before was fumbling at the cannula taped to the back of his hand. "I'm sorry, didn't mean to wake you," the nurse said.

"It's okay," Jake mumbled. At least he bothered to apologize, which was more than you could expect of most of the staff.

"I'd like to remove your cannula."

Jake shrugged, his voice still sluggish. "Don't let me stop you."

The nurse grinned. "And here's the best part. We're not gonna put a new one in."

"You really know how to make my day."

The nurse looked at him. "There's also a downside."

"Damn, couldn't you have mentioned that earlier?" Jake quipped.

"You've gotta drink more. Since we're not pumping saline into your veins anymore, the fluids are gonna have to come in the usual way. Two liters a day. At least." The nurse held out a hand for Jake to shake. "David, by the way."

"Jake."

David smiled. "I know."

"I don't suppose you could take out the catheter too, could you?"

"Nope, sorry, no luck there."

"Yeah, well, I guess you gotta take what you get," Jake sighed.

"So, you ready for breakfast?" David asked.

"If it's not stale bread and strawberry jam, I'm game."

"Let me see what I can do."

—==''''==—

An hour later, Tom came to visit, a display pad in his hand. "Jesus, are all VA doctors so tight-lipped?" he sighed.

Tom had stayed a whole week. He was at Jake's bedside every day. Some days they didn't have much to talk about, some days Tom would prattle away about his science projects or his colleagues. Jake couldn't always follow his ramblings, but it didn't matter. His brother was here, and he was infinitely thankful for the company. They had talked more in the past six days than in the last two years.

Tom put the pad on the corner of Jake's bedside locker. "Okay, I think I've got it all set up. Your transfer paperwork is on here, and some research on the kind of injury you have. I've read some interesting articles on new techniques they're trying. There's a clinical trial in Ohio with biosynthetic implants that sounds promising. Now I'm just waiting for the Marine Corps administration to give the go ahead to have you flown out of here. They said they might be able to put us on one of their shuttles to the States day after tomorrow."

Jake had to admit it felt good to know that someone had his back, once he'd accepted that Tom wasn't going to go away. "Sounds good." He forced a smile.

"Cool," Tom said, "and you—"

The mobile comm device in Tom's pant pocket suddenly beeped. He got it out and looked at its small display. "Sorry, I gotta take this."

Jake watched him leave the room, sticking the MoComm in his ear.

Tom's face was one big smile when he came back a few minutes later. "Jake!" he called, "Jake, I don't believe it. I got in! The Avatar Program, I got in!" He beamed at his brother expectantly.

Jake broke into a genuine smile. "Wow, that's awesome!" He knew how much this meant to Tom, how hard he'd worked for it. Tom hadn't been able to stop talking about it over the past few days.

"It is, right? I can't believe it. I'm really gonna go to Pandora."

Jake's spirits suddenly fell. A few days ago, Tom had told him he wasn't going anywhere, that they were going to do this together. And now he was saying they were going to shoot him out into space to be a guinea pig on some distant planet. What did that mean?

Tom immediately realized what was going through his brother's head. "No, Jake, don't worry. They don't need me for another few months. The next training program only starts in November, and it takes three years until I'm ready to go. I still mean what I said."

Jake's eyes narrowed for a second, but then he smiled encouragingly. "It's cool, Tom. I'm gonna be okay on my own."

"Yeah, let's shelf that conversation until I'm shipping out, okay? Until then, you can work on making it sound convincing."

There was a sound from the door, and they both watched as David came in, pushing a yellow and black wheelchair in front of him. A mischievous smile tugged at his lips. "Jake Sully, may I introduce you to your new set of wheels?"

Jake was suddenly overwhelmed by a tumble of mixed feelings. He had both been looking forward to and dreading this moment. The clumsy hospital wheelchairs were utilitarian and not very maneuverable—and the bruises on Jake's knees and legs showed it. It still creeped him out that they didn't hurt at all. Things would be so much better if he could move around with more ease. But getting his own wheelchair, it also drew a final stroke. It meant his fate was sealed and he'd have to get ready to move on.

"Wow, look at that," Tom said.

Jake didn't feel quite so overwhelmed anymore. "It's a wheelchair."

David pointed a finger at him. "Aw, come on, it's the coolest wheelchair on the whole compound. Here, it folds up too." David pushed down on a handle and demonstrated it.

"Lovely," Jake said cynically. "I feel so special."

Tom gave him a scolding look. "Jake, you could show a little enthusiasm. It took a lot of calls to get it here so fast."

But David broke into a lopsided grin. "Don't worry, the two of them will get acquainted." Looking at Jake, he said, "You should name her."

Jake raised his eyebrows. "Her?"

"Yeah, don't you think she looks like a she?"

"It looks like a piece of carbon and fabric."

"You'll learn to appreciate her, trust me."

Jake just shrugged. "Yeah, whatever."

—==''''==—

"Welcome to your new home. Well, for the next few weeks, anyway," Tom said as he held the key card to the access panel in the wall.

The door slid open to reveal Tom's crammed, untidy apartment and Jake wheeled inside, followed by his brother.

"Sorry for the mess," Tom shrugged apologetically.

"You call this a mess?" Jake took in the items of stray clothing hanging on the backs of chairs and piles of display pads on the small couch and metal couch table. "Dude, I've lived in army camps. You don't know what a real mess is."

Jake had reluctantly agreed to live with Tom for a few weeks, until they found a place that was, to use the politically correct term, barrier-free. Jake's old place definitely wasn't.

Tom's apartment would barely have enough space for two people. The times were people had enough room to live comfortably were long gone, unless you belonged to the top-income class and could afford living on the outskirts of the cities. Everything was standardized these days, starting with the size of cubicle-like apartments in anonymous, monotonous building blocks that loomed between maglev train tracks that whooshed past almost inaudibly.

Jake pulled his army bag from behind his back onto his lap. "So, where can I put my stuff?"

Tom half-heartedly started putting things away where they belonged, but then realized that tidying up could wait. "You can take the bedroom, I'll set up shop in the living room."

Jake stopped and turned the wheelchair around to face his brother. It didn't help that he had to look up to meet his eyes. His tone was suddenly angry. "What is this, a charity ball? There's no way in hell I'm sleeping in your bed while you camp out on the couch in your own apartment!"

"Jake, we've talked about this—"

" _We_ have not talked about this, _you_ have. I don't see why I can't go back to my place anyway."

Tom sighed. "And then what? The elevator doesn't work half the time, and the location is completely not convenient."

"Convenient," Jake snorted in contempt. "You know what would be convenient? If I had my legs back and didn't have to rely on a fucking wheelchair to get around."

Tom's eyes grew hard and determined. "Yeah, well, reality check. You can't."

Jake's voice was filled with sarcasm. "That's right. I can't. Thanks for reminding me. As if this," he slapped the side of the wheels, "wasn't reminder enough."

"Jake," Tom said, biting back another sigh. "Please don't do this."

"Do what? Be paralyzed? You know, I'm trying real hard not to right now."

"Fine," Tom's voice was cold, "keep up the attitude. You still sleep in the bedroom. It's not open for discussion."

"Fuck you," Jake spit out, but still wheeled into the bedroom.

"Nice, Jake," Tom muttered under his breath.

He wondered if this was what he'd have to deal with for the coming weeks. The doctors at the VA hospital had already warned him that the next few weeks and months would be difficult. Jake was going through the typical stages of grief. He had already been through 'denial', so this must be the beginning of 'anger'.

As Tom opened the refrigerator to see if anything edible was left in it after his rushed departure and almost two weeks' absence, he hoped he wouldn't regret his decision to take care of his brother.

—==''''==—

"Shit," Tom heard an angry curse from the bathroom, then a clanging noise and more expletives.

He drew closer but stopped in front of the closed bathroom door. "Jake, you okay?"

"Yeah," he heard a muffled sound, then a distinct, "Fuck!"

Tom opened the unlocked door. His brother, naked, was trying to hoist himself into the bathtub, but the wheelchair had rolled away and Jake was sitting on the floor, trying to heave his body up.

"Jesus, Jake, why didn't you say something?" Tom went to his brother's aid.

"No! Don't!" Jake sharply shot back. The vehemence in his voice stopped Tom cold. "I got this."

Tom just stood there and watched, feeling very helpless as Jake groped for the edge of the tub and made another attempt. This time he managed to get his hip up to the level of the edge of the tub, but then his hands slipped. He toppled backwards and thudded onto the cold bathroom floor.

Tom was by his brother's side in three quick steps. "Jake!"

"Get away from me!" Jake yelled at him, but this time Tom didn't acquiesce.

"Jake, you can't do this alone."

Jake straightened into a sitting position and started to lash about with his hands. "No!"

Tom tried again. "Jake, _please_." He grabbed his brother's wrists and fought him until Jake capitulated.

They looked at each other for a long moment. The rage in Jake's eyes suddenly turned to crushing humiliation. His insides churned and tears of shame welled up that Jake couldn't stop.

"Tom," he whispered, "I can't... I can't do this."

Tom let go of Jake's hands and kneeled next to his brother. Jake faltered for a moment, before he gave in to the sob that heaved up his chest. Tom hesitated a few seconds, then gently placed his hand at the back of Jake's neck and drew him into an embrace.

They sat that way for a few, long minutes, Jake crying in his brother's arms for legs and a life lost in the South American jungle.


	3. Deal

—==''''==—

"Yes, I understand that this is an unusual request," Tom said into his MoComm. "Yes, I know." There was a silence as he listened, then his voice got an annoyed edge to it. "Okay. Well, thank you anyway. Goodbye."

He hit the OFF button, then muttered, "Yeah, thanks for nothing."

"No luck?" Jake asked.

Tom had been making calls all morning to try and find an apartment for Jake to live where he didn't have to rely on constant help from others. It had become such a rare condition for someone to be confined to a wheelchair that it was extremely difficult to even find housing or equipment that was made especially for the disabled.

"They recommended I try elsewhere. Again. I don't understand why the Marines can't take care of this."

Jake snorted disdainfully. "Yeah, right. You've heard their take on this. It's nice and easy to blame the economy when it's not the rest of _your_ life on the line."

"Well, we have the one place I called yesterday that we can look at this afternoon."

"Right," Jake agreed.

Tom had tried hard to make it sound like an okay place to live, but Jake knew where that building was located. He had been in that area of town a few times, and it didn't evoke fond memories. His vet benefits were a joke, and it was gonna be damn near impossible to find a decent place with money to spare for food and necessities.

But sharing Tom's cramped place for three weeks was taking its toll on both of them. They were fighting almost every day now. There was always something Tom found to complain about, or something Jake was getting frustrated with. It was high time Jake got out of there.

—==''''==—

"Okay, I'll take it," Jake said to the unkempt landlord who looked like he hadn't slept for days and not showered for much longer than that.

"Jake," Tom hissed.

Jake looked up at him. "What!? It'll do."

Tom looked at the landlord. "Will you excuse us for a minute?"

He stood behind Jake's wheelchair and pushed him into the bathroom area. There were no doors, no compartments. It was basically kitchenette, bedroom and bathroom rolled into one.

Tom looked at his brother, incredulous. "Are you serious? This place is nothing more than a prison cell."

Jake narrowed his eyes, a vehemence to his words Tom hadn't expected. "Okay, let's really get serious here for a minute, little brother. How long have you been calling people now? There _isn't_ anything better than this. You should know that better than anyone. It's got what I need. It's halfway clean and it's cheap."

"Jake," Tom sighed. He couldn't bear the thought of his brother living in a standard issue, gray 5x6 box. "Let's reconsider. I'll find some place bigger that we can share. Just give me a little more time."

Jake laughed a hollow laugh. "Share? Geez, no friggin' way I'm gonna live with you for much longer."

"Oh no? And what does _that_ mean?"

Jake shook his head. "The constant squabbles, your complaints. Jake, have you done this? Jake, why haven't you done that? It's seriously getting on my balls!"

Tom was taken aback for a second, but his patience was also lasting only so long. "Okay, fine, if that's how you feel, you can rot in this hellhole for the rest of your life. See if I care."

"Good," Jake said sarcastically. "Then I guess it's settled."

He wheeled past Tom and approached the landlord who was still standing in the same spot as before.

—==''''==—

The beeping of Jake's video call screen was getting annoying. The bright yellow icon flashed irritatingly and Jake couldn't ignore it any longer.

It was Tom. Again. Jake had switched off the recording function of his video calls because he was getting sick of his brother leaving him messages all the time.

Jake wheeled over to the screen and hit the annoyingly flashing icon.

"Jake!" Tom's face appeared on the screen. "Thank God, I was really getting worried. You stopped answering messages, and I can hardly reach you anymore."

Jake said nothing. He wasn't really in the mood for another guilt trip or lecture.

"Are you okay?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jake said gruffly. "What's the emergency?"

"Huh?" Tom looked confused for a moment. "No, no emergency. What, I can't call my brother unless there's an emergency?"

"Cut the crap, I know something's up. You don't call without a reason."

Damn right. Tom had that definite 'caught in the act' look in his eyes, and Jake recognized it immediately.

"Jake," Tom sighed. "What is going on with you? The clinic called me, they said you stopped coming to physio."

"The physio is a joke. All they ever do is make you swim around in circles and do pushups. I don't need that shit."

"Yeah, it's real easy of you to say that. I'm paying a lot of money for that 'shit', Jake. You could at least have the courtesy of telling me you're quitting."

"Is that what it's about—the money? Well, in that case, you can be glad that I'm not doing it anymore. Means you won't have to spend any more money on a no-good loser like your brother."

"Bullshit. Shows how much you know. I had to pay in advance, for the full three months. It doesn't make a fucking difference if you go or not. So unless you want me to shred your sorry ass, you better get the same down there next week."

"Or what?" Jake countered provocatively.

"Or I'm gonna drag you there personally." He wasn't joking.

"Didn't I just tell you that the whole thing is a joke? I get more of a workout by wheeling myself up and down the hallway."

Jake could see his brother rubbing a hand over his face on the video screen before he spoke. "Okay. I obviously can't force you to go. This is not gonna work if you don't want it. But I can tell you that you're not doing either of us a favor by quitting."

A bubble of resentment welled up in Jake. "Then I guess that's what I'm always gonna be, the quitter. The guy who could never get anything right. The dumb grunt who couldn't even—"

"Stop. Stop being sorry for yourself. That's not gonna change anything."

"Spoken like a true shrink," Jake spat at him sarcastically. "You sure you don't wanna change your specialty? You surely got the brains and attitude for it."

Tom rubbed his eyebrows with both hands. "Jake. I just wanna h—"

"Help, I know," he interrupted. "What if I don't want your help?"

"What if you do but don't know it yet?"

Jake didn't have an answer for that. He sighed. "Tom, seriously, why are you doing all this?"

Tom's eyes looked at Jake determinedly through the screen. "Because if I was in your situation, I'd want my brother to do the same thing for me."

Jake lowered his head, suddenly very self-conscious. He nervously played with his fingers in his lap, then looked up to meet his brother's eyes. "Okay. I'll go to physio next week, I promise."

Tom smiled a small smile. "I'd really like to believe that."

"You can come shred my sorry ass if I don't, how about that?"

His brother's smile widened. "Deal."

—==''''==—

One push to get out the door, brake with both hands to hold the keycard up to the access panel next to the door so it would close. Five pushes to the elevator, reach up to hit the button with the downwards arrow. An extra hard push to make the wheelchair pass over the ridge of the elevator door. Trying not to look at his own image in the mirror for the few seconds it took to the ground floor. It was all a well practiced routine for Jake now.

He checked his digital watch. Damn, he was late. He looked up and... whoa, he almost collided with—

His brother.

"Tom?"

"You're late."

"Wait, are you checking up on me?" Jake asked jokingly.

"You did say I could shred your ass if you didn't go to physio."

"Yeah, well, I didn't think you would actually do it."

"So, _are_ you?"

"What? Going to physio?"

"Yeah," Tom confirmed.

"Jesus, I can't believe it, you are actually checking up on me. Don't you have your lab geeks to hang out with or something?"

Tom's face turned more serious. "Jake, this isn't a laughing matter. It's important. It'll help going back to..."

"Normal?" Jake finished the sentence.

Tom sighed. "I don't know. Normal is relative. What's normal anymore anyway? I don't think anything's really been normal since Mom died."

It was a touchy subject, one that had driven a wedge between the twins. Their mother had been the last thing connecting the two of them. They had lived such separate lives after they finished school. There was never any question that Tom, who couldn't be dragged away from science texts and research logs, would go to college and become a biologist.

Jake had chosen a different path, looking for something that would present a challenge. Seeing an ad for the Marine Corps on an advertising screen, he had looked into it and signed up. He never questioned whether it was his destiny or his dream. It was a job, something to throw yourself into, and that was enough in his book.

Tom never approved of it. Even though he hadn't openly said it in those words, Jake knew that his brother frowned upon any job that condoned doing harm to living beings. While Tom also knew it wasn't quite so black and white, he had no respect for the military.

Their mother had loved them both, unconditionally, the way a mother does. Her death came as a blow to both of them, but instead of drawing them closer together, it had the opposite effect. They couldn't agree on a funeral arrangement, they couldn't agree on the tombstone and what was going to be on it, they couldn't agree on the speech to give at the funeral. In the end, Jake had relinquished the arrangements to his brother, tired of the constant fighting and Tom's unintentional yet stinging condescension.

They hadn't really had much contact since then, not before Jake's accident. There was a woman about a year ago, Tom's girlfriend, Nicole. She had made several attempts at getting the brothers to reconnect. Eventually, Nicole and Tom hadn't worked out and she had faded from Jake's life along with his brother.

And then, a piece of shrapnel had turned everything around. There was a certain irony in that. While it had severed Jake's spinal cord, it had reconnected the two brothers.

In the building's lobby, Jake started pumping the wheels of his chair to propel himself in the direction of the door. He didn't much feel like talking about family or other tragedies. "I'm gonna be late if I don't get a move on."

"Mind if I go with you?"

Jake shrugged. "Sure. Whatever."


	4. Taking The Slide

—==''''==—

Jake squinted as he approached his apartment, wheeling himself down the hallway. The figure hovering near his door looked familiar.

"Tommy," he beamed at him sheepishly, holding out his fist for his brother to tap.

Tom didn't play along. He only looked at Jake with a determined, almost angry expression.

"Geez, you're drunk. I can smell it from a mile away."

"'Drunk' may be too strong a word, little brother," Jake said, slurring the words, the same impish smile still on his face.

Jake fumbled in his pocket, fighting with the key card for a long moment as his twin looked on with contempt. He finally managed to free it and opened the door.

"Come in, come in, to my humble abode. Make yourself rrrrright at home."

Tom shook his head. This wasn't like Jake. What the hell had happened in the last few weeks? It had been difficult to keep track of his brother. The avatar training program had started two months ago, and the schedule was as tight as any schedule could be. There was never enough time for catching up with friends and family. Or sleep.

Jake had eluded him somehow. Tom hadn't had the time to track and trace unanswered calls and messages, and he had put Jake's unavailability down to bad timing. Now, his suspicion that it was something more, something worse, was reinforced by his brother's inebriation.

Entering the apartment, Tom looked around, trying to ignore the mess. There were no chairs in Jake's apartment—what for? Jake had all the chair he needed. Clearing away some dirty clothes from Jake's bed, Tom sat down on it.

Jake wheeled closer, his smile now almost a snarl. "So, what brings you here? Come for another round of patronizing? Or... let me guess, more indoctrination." Opening his arms invitingly, he continued. "Bring it on, I can take it."

Tom sat as if carved from stone. "Jake, what are you doing?" he asked in a shocked voice that was just above a whisper.

"What am I _doing_? What do you think I'm doing? I'm having fun. Isn't that what life is supposed to be about?"

"By getting drunk off your ass?"

Jake smiled a mockingly knowing smile. "Ah, here we go. I feel the beginnings of a lecture."

Tom couldn't take this. He got up and grabbed Jake's shoulders, pushing him in the direction of the bathroom. "Take a shower, Jake."

"Oh, wait, I stand corrected," Jake retorted. "Not a lecture, an order. Nice. I've really missed this."

Tom let go of his brother, feeling empty and helpless all of a sudden. He went over to the tiny kitchenette, leaning forward with his hands on the edge of the small counter. He didn't know why there were tears burning behind his eyes. Tears of guilt, maybe? For accepting the mission to Pandora, for not having spent more time with Jake, for not having made more of an effort?

He heard Jake's voice from across the room, sarcastic, with a provocative undertone. "Hey, brother, please don't disappoint me. Where's your zest? I'm waiting."

Tom sucked in a sharp breath. His voice wavered as he spoke, on the verge of breaking. "I didn't come here to give you a lecture or orders or to patronize. Jake, I'm worried. It's like I'm losing you. I don't know how to get through to you anymore. I'm not sure how much longer I can do this."

There was a long silence, and Tom finally turned around. Jake was rooted to the spot, all color drained from his face. He slowly shook his head, then said in a low voice, "Let me take a shower."

Tom lifted his head. "You need help?"

"No," Jake said quietly. "Thanks."

Tom acknowledged with a short nod.

A few minutes later he heard the water being turned on as he roamed around in the cupboards. There had to be coffee somewhere. Along the way, he encountered long-expired protein bars and moldy bio packs. 'Jesus, Jake,' he thought. It was a long way down to the bottom, but he could feel that Jake was already taking the slide.

He finally found the instant coffee powder at the back of one of the upper cupboards, one that Jake would not be able to reach without help. Wondering how it may have gotten there in the first place, he opened the jar and sniffed carefully. Still good. Sort of. It would do.

Two mugs with water were quickly placed in the microwave. He checked Jake's drinking water rations, thankfully there were enough left for the rest of the month. He had a fleeting suspicion that his brother wasn't spending too much time in this place anymore. He didn't want to imagine where he was hanging out instead.

The milk concentrate in the fridge was curdled, and Tom got rid of it, wrinkling his nose at the smell. It'd have to be black coffee. Maybe that was just as well.

Jake looked a lot more like his old, sober self when he came over from the bathroom fifteen minutes later. Dressed in fresh clothes, smelling faintly of minty toothpaste, it made a hell of a difference. Tom had in the meantime tidied up the room somewhat. Jake's tiny apartment was now almost habitable.

Tom held out the steaming mug with coffee to Jake, who gratefully took it. For lack of seating, Tom went back to the bed that was really nothing more than a cot, and sat down. Jake carefully followed, and Tom thought he could detect a hint of regret in his eyes.

They were silent for a long moment before Jake quietly said, "Look, I'm sorry."

Tom looked up but didn't meet his brother's eyes. "I'd like to believe that you are, but let's just say I'm willing to accept it as a peace offering."

"Fair enough."

"Jake, can we talk about this?"

"About what? Me getting drunk?" It wasn't sarcastic or angry, it was a simple question.

"No. I mean, that's a part of it, but I'd like to know what's up with you. You're never there when I call. You don't answer any of my messages. I know you'll hate me for saying this, but I even called the Rec Center because I just couldn't get a hold of you for weeks on end. They said you haven't been down there in months. Is there something going on with you I should be worried about?"

Jake looked down at his hands that were cradling the coffee mug, feeling the warmth of the insulated metal on his fingertips.

"I don't know what you want me to say. You're not my mother. I'm not a little kid anymore that needs looking after."

"Jake, that's never what I intended."

"Felt like it sometimes, though."

Tom sighed. He hadn't known that Jake felt like this. "I'm sorry about that," he muttered. "For the patronizing and the lectures too."

Jake shook his head slightly. "Don't be. I probably deserved it. Didn't hurt that you read me the riot act every now and then. Gave me a conscience. But you can't keep doing it, Tommy. At some point you gotta let me live my own life."

Tom sipped at his coffee, the bitter taste stinging on his tongue. "Yeah. But, you know, that would be much easier if I had some kind of reassurance that you're not gonna do something stupid or get in trouble."

Jake smiled a crooked smile. "You know me. Trouble finds me, whether I want it or not."

"Exactly. And that's what has me worried."

Jake met Tommy's gaze. "Look. You're all wrapped up in your Pandora thing. And, I mean, I get it. You've been talking about that planet ever since Dad showed us the pictures when we were still kids. You gotta stop worrying about me and do your thing. You deserve this. But what you don't deserve is feeling like you need to mother-hen your idiot brother. One day down the road, you're shipping off into space. And I'm still gonna be here. On my own. Doing just fine."

"You make it sound so easy."

Jake wheeled closer and took his brother's hands in both of his to reinforce his words. "Tommy. It can be easy. You just gotta trust me, okay?"

Tom sighed a long sigh. "Okay," he finally agreed.

—==''''==—

"Hey, Tom," Norm Spellman approached him. "You done the Thanator simulation yet?"

Tom swiveled his chair around, turning his attention away from the experiment he was working on. "Yeah, did it yesterday. Kinda scary."

"Hard to believe we're shipping out in three months. Doesn't feel like we've been at this for almost three years."

"Yeah," Tom acknowledged. It was an unwelcome reminder, and he suddenly felt guilty for not having been touch with Jake for a while. Time was passing so fast, the last four or five months had gone by in a flurry.

"Man, I really gotta talk to my brother," Tom muttered, more to himself than to Norm.

"Don't remind me. I have, like, ten unanswered messages from my mom," Norm said.

Tom grinned. "You better get to it, Spellman. Being on the receiving end of mom's wrath is never a good thing."

"Why, you got some experience?"

"Not really. My mother died six years ago."

Norm's smile faded. "Sorry."

Tom looked at him with a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Norm, don't worry about it."

Norm nodded, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "Look, uh, I got this report I need to finish."

"Yeah, okay. See you later."

"Later," Norm said and left the room.

Tom also got up and walked over to the comm station, initiating a video call to his brother. It didn't come as a surprise that no one picked up at the other end, so Tom left a message.

"Hey, Jake, long time, no see. You know, I, uh, I'm shipping out to Pandora in three months. We should catch up some time. I have a day off next week. How about I come down to see you? Call me, okay? Bye."

—==''''==—

It was shocking even to Jake, the way his face stared back at him in the mirror. Swollen and split lip, an ugly purple bruise on his cheekbone and a black eye to go with it. It wouldn't usually bother him so much, but he was already dreading Tom's reaction to it. Too late now, Tom would be waiting for him.

He grabbed his keycard off the kitchenette counter and left the apartment.

Out on the street, Jake was hit once again by the smell. You could almost taste the toxicity in the air, and every morning on the news they would issue warnings about how long you could stay outside without wearing a filter mask before it would do harm to your body.

He stopped at the traffic light and stared up at the levels of the city. Maglev trains were whooshing overhead on elevated tracks, against a sky of garish advertising. When the traffic light changed, he pushed forward, pumping the wheels of his chair to keep up with the marching torrent of anonymous, isolated souls.

The diner where Jake had suggested he and Tom could meet had been the place of choice not for its ambiance but for its convenience. It was just a block away from Jake's apartment and he knew the food was edible and affordable.

He suddenly remembered something from way back, in the hospital after his accident. Tom had said he'd somehow get the money to get Jake's spinal fixed. Three years had passed and the 'somehow' had never occurred. Eventually, Jake had stopped hoping for it. He could barely get by on his benefits, and even though allegedly the RDA paid anyone who was willing to join SecFor and ship out to Pandora serious money, they wouldn't start paying you until you actually arrived. Jake knew Tom was already helping out financially as much as he could, so Jake's dream of ever being able to walk again had gradually trickled away.

Tom wasn't there yet when Jake got to Scotti's. A few regulars nodded casual greetings as Jake wheeled over to this usual spot. It was a darker corner of the establishment—and Jake liked it just that way. Being in a wheelchair caused enough of a stir, and Jake had never been one for wanting to be in the limelight.

Katey, one of the waitresses, came over. Seeing his face close-up, he could see she tried to hide her initial shock. "Hey Jake. The usual?"

"Actually, I'm waiting for someone."

"Oh." This seemed unusual, Jake never brought any company. "I'll come back later, then."

Jake just nodded.

Five minutes later, Tom entered the diner. His eyes scanning for his brother, he finally saw him at the table at the far end. He walked over at a brisk step, taking off his coat before he sat down, never really looking at Jake.

"Hey, sorry I'm late. The train connec— Whoa."

For the first time, he noticed his brother's bruised face. "Jesus, Jake, what happened to you?"

Jake smiled wanly. "This? Oh, it's nothing. Had a little... altercation."

"Altercation?"

"I'd rather not talk about it, okay?"

Tom was silent for a moment. 'Not okay,' he thought, but he didn't say it out loud and swallowed it down.

Katey came back to their table, taking in Tom's facial features. "Identical twins, huh? Cool," she said while chewing on her chewing gum.

Jake ordered lite beer, Tom iced tea.

"Nothing to eat?"

"Give us another minute, okay?" Jake said.

"'K," Katey echoed, looking slightly annoyed.

Jake watched her rather well-proportioned booty as she walked away until Tom's voice drew his attention back to his brother. "So, what's good here?"

"Uh... The burgers are okay. Wouldn't recommend the hot dogs."

Come to think of it, Jake hadn't had any sausages that tasted right in a long time—not since their childhood family trip to Alaska. None of the meat analogs he had tried could compare to the real deal.

When Katey came back with the drinks, they ordered their meals. After a few casual inquiries about how Jake was doing, they fell into easy conversation about Tom's work and the training program. When Tom was enthusiastic about something, he tended to ramble on and on. It was just the way Jake liked it because it meant he wouldn't have to talk about himself.

Still, he knew they would come back to that topic sooner or later. Tom had a way of latching on to Jake's pant leg like a pertinacious terrier. He didn't have to wait long.

"And now, after almost three years, I can't believe that they're actually going to fire me out there, into space." He propped his chin up on his hand with his elbow on the table, looking at Jake for a long moment. "Sometimes I'm asking myself if it was really the right decision."

"Are you kidding me? I would have kicked your ass if you hadn't signed up. You've dreamed about this since we were little."

"Yeah, but that was then. When we still had a family. When you..."

"... could still walk?" Jake finished his sentence.

"Yeah. No. I didn't mean it quite like that."

"Then how did you mean it?"

Tom sighed. "I'm at a loss here. What am I supposed to think? I'm leaving in a couple of months, I'm gonna be four and a half light-years away, on another planet, in another star system." He lifted his arms in frustration. "You're the only family I have left. This would be a lot easier if there was some kind of support system, you know? If I knew there was someone looking out for you."

Jake narrowed his eyes for a second, taking in his brother's expression. "Don't you remember what I told you, that one night you came to see me and I was drunk?"

"Yeah," Tom said in a resigned voice. "You told me to trust you."

"So, let me ask you. Are you? Trusting me?"

Tom looked at Jake's face, his eyes catching on the bruises and cuts. "I mean, geez, Jake, look at you. God knows what kind of fight you were in that earned you this," he pointed at his brother's face. "How can I trust anything or anyone, knowing that people are beating you up?"

Jake frowned. Way to jump to conclusions, but of course Tom wasn't far off. "Who says anyone beat me up?"

"Was it because of the wheelchair? Jesus, I can't believe people would assault someone just because they're disabled!"

Jake let out something between a snort and a laugh. "Is that what you think? That I got beat up by some asshole with a violent passion for discrimination? Boy, Tom, you're really a lot more naïve than I pegged you to be."

Tom frowned. "Wait a minute. What are you saying?"

Jake slowly closed his eyes and opened them again. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."

"The hell it doesn't matter. Are you saying you're going around, provoking fights. Shit, Jake, _why_?!"

"Can we not talk about this? It was a one time thing, okay?"

Tom didn't buy it, but what was he supposed to do? Maybe Jake needed professional help. Back in Venezuela, they had recommended that Jake should see a psychiatrist. Tom had looked into it even before bringing the idea to Jake, but there were no State-funded programs for trauma victims with permanent injuries anymore. Veterans' Affairs wasn't accepting responsibility either because some dickhead consultant had reviewed Jake's case and attested to the fact that Jake had acted on his own accord rather than his sergeant's orders during the attack that had resulted in his injury. Between the physio and making a living for the both of them, there just wasn't any money left.

But now, being put into cryostasis, Tom wouldn't need any money for the next six or so years. And once he got to Pandora, he'd make more than he could probably spend out there.

Tom looked at his brother intently. "Have you ever thought about getting professional help?"

At first Jake didn't know what his brother was talking about, but then it dawned on him. "A shrink?" he laughed hollowly. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm dead serious. Look at what you've been through. You haven't ever really talked about it to anyone, have you? Instead, you've become this angry, bitter person. I mean, look at yourself. Do you like what you see when you look in the mirror?"

Jake was too upset to even give it a moment's thought. "And what do you care?"

"I care because it seems to me like you're on some kind of warpath with the world and yourself, trying to find someone to punish for what's happened to you."

"Ooooh," Jake said mockingly. "Here we go. Why would I even need to pay for seeing a shrink when I can have you for free?"

Tom shook his head. They were back to this again. "This was a mistake. I should never have accepted getting into the Avatar program."

"Oh yeah? Reality check, Tom, not everything is always about you. None of this is your fault—not the fact that I'm bound to a wheelchair for the rest of my life, not the fact that no one wants to hire a fucking cripple, and especially not the fact that I have a black eye and a fat lip. I mean, sure, if you wanna blame me for your feeling guilty, go right ahead. God knows, you blamed me for enough things in your life."

Tom's mouth was a hardened line. Why was it always coming back this? His intention had been to make this somewhat of a farewell conversation. Things with the program were ramping up now, and he didn't know if he'd get another chance to make the trip down here to see his brother again in person before he flew out. Yet, they were fighting again. And he couldn't bite back the anger that was welling up inside of him.

"Blame you? Yeah, right! Like when I blamed you for not being able to afford summer camp because you wrecked the car? Or when I blamed you for getting kicked out of Westwood because you kept beating up Billy MacLaren. Or when I had to repeat a semester to take care of mom because you were out on tour in Guatemala. And did you ever take responsibility for any of that? No, you've always been real good at dodging your way out."

"Is that what this is about? Responsibility? You know what? Maybe it's because no one's ever fucking trusted me to _be_ responsible for anything. _You_ were always the responsible one, the one everyone knew would grow up to be something, would make a difference in this world. And who was I? That's right, I was always just Jake Sully. Brother of Thomas Sully. Who would tag along in your shadow."

"That's not true, and you know it."

"Do I? How would you know, you've never been in my shoes."

"That's right, Jake, and the only person who could have done something about it was you. If this is the life you chose for yourself, to hang around in shady company, getting beat up for the fun of it, then that's your choice. There ain't a damn thing I can do about it. Not from here and not from outer space, and especially not if you don't want help."

Jake's eyes were dark with determined anger. "Is that what it comes down to? That I'm not the person you're trying so hard to make me into? Well, then I'm sorry and I hope you have a great life out there on Pandora, trying not to think about your reject brother who just can't seem to conform to who you want him to be. You know what? I'd rather die than be that person."

Tom swallowed. Somewhere deep in his gut it felt like a serrated knife was being twisted with brute force. In a controlled, quiet and cold voice, he said, "Fine. Then nothing should make you happier than the fact that I'm gonna be out of your way and out of your life for the next eighteen years."

He roamed around in his pocket for a cash chip. The one he was carrying had more credit on it than his meal was worth, but it didn't matter. "Here," he put the chip on the table. "Keep the change. You might need it."

He got up and looked down at his brother. "Goodbye, Jake. Have a nice life."

He walked away without another word. Out in the street, in the gray haze of the polluted city, he let the tears of anger and disappointment run free.


	5. A Fresh Start

—==''''==—

 _Ba-dee da dum, ba-dee da dah_  
_Life's like a firefly_  
 _Green and glowy_  
 _Bright as a star_

Tom sang the lyrics in his mind as he whistled the tune out loud. He had to grin, it was such a cheesy song, and the lyrics didn't even make sense. However, somehow the tune was stuck in his head.

He exited the RDA building, its large glass façade towering high above him. Looking at his watch, he realized he had just missed the last maglev that would take him from Assembly Square to Arsenal. Shit. He'd have to walk all the way over to Central Street to get home—which was something he usually tried to avoid, especially at night. The area around Wheatland wasn't exactly safe. Good thing he had taken his filter mask this morning on the way out.

His unease grew with every block he walked. The further he went, the less fellow pedestrians he saw. His step quickened, as did his breath and heartbeat. He knew he was being paranoid, but he turned around—he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was following him. When he saw only deserted streets and the occasional vividly glowing advertising screen, he chastised himself for being so silly.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he had crossed Harvard Boulevard. Finally there were people in the street again. Even the street lights seemed brighter and more cheerful—if anything in this city could still be considered cheerful.

Turning right on Huntington, he felt someone suddenly grab his upper arm, viselike, dragging him into an alley between two buildings.

"Hey," Tom protested, "Get off me!"

"Shut the fuck up, dumbass," a deep voice hissed.

The guy pushed him so hard that he almost tumbled to the ground. Tom pulled out of his grip and whirled around. "Leave me alone, asshole!" He pushed back at the guy.

"Getting rebellious, are we?" the man said mockingly, and shoved Tom against the wall. It was only now that Tom was able to see the guy's face in the dim light. An ugly scar was marring his cheek from below his eye down to the corner of his mouth.

Without thinking, Tom's knee shot up and he hit the guy in the balls, but he hadn't used the right angle. Scar Man bent over and Tom started to bolt, but the guy tripped him up by grabbing his ankle. Tom hit the ground, his side colliding painfully with the hard concrete.

There was a metallic click and he felt something cold press against the side of his neck. "You really shouldn't have done that," the voice said menacingly. Tom's heart skipped a beat before it started racing.

"What do you want?" he stammered.

"You got cash on you?"

"A few cash chips. That's all."

"Give them to me," Scar Man commanded.

Tom rolled onto his back and fumbled desperately in his pocket. He held three chips out to Scar Man.

"How much is on these?"

"I don't know. Fifty bucks maybe?"

Scar Man snorted disdainfully. "Fucking joke," he muttered and grabbed the chips. "What else you got?"

Tom lifted his arms in defense. "My credit card. That's all, I swear."

"Yeah, credit card's no use for me, unless I take your fingertips."

Tom held his breath, sensing he was in real danger. Scar Man started to turn around, and Tom started to release his breath... but then the guy turned back. There was a grin of true evil on his face. "Fucking bloodsucker, this is for the Thai knee."

There was a plopping noise and suddenly Tom felt a sharp pain in his chest. He gasped for air, clutching his torso. He didn't notice his hand came away bloody. He felt his vision starting to blur and the pain slowly subsiding.

'What the hell is happening?' he thought, and then, 'Jake. Where are you when I need you?'

The last thing Tom Sully ever saw was the dark, smoggy sky of the city and a the dim glow of a light being switched on in the building next to him.

—==''''==—

"Shut up," Jake growled through his teeth, but the buzzing noise continued without ceasing. It took him a few moments to shake the last hazes of sleep from his brain and realize that the buzzing wasn't his alarm clock or a video call, but that it was coming from his door.

"Go away," he yelled, hoping the sound would carry through the door. Since he could pretty much hear whatever was going on next door that was above room sound volume, he was pretty sure this would too.

The buzzing didn't stop like he'd hoped. "Okay, I'm coming," he finally relented.

With a groan, he rolled onto his back and sat upright, instantly wishing he hadn't. The dull, throbbing pain in his head intensified with any sudden move he made. A look at the clock confirmed that it wasn't only from the few drinks too many he might have had the night before but also from lack of sleep. 7:26 AM meant he hadn't even slept four hours.

He rubbed his face after he had dragged his useless body into his wheelchair. Whatever the reason was for anyone to wake him at this ungodly hour, it'd have to be good.

The door slid open when he activated the button on the control panel to reveal a man and a woman, both clad in business clothes.

"Jake Sully?" the man asked.

Jake squinted up at them, noticing a badge clipped to both their waistbands. Shit. Had he done something the night before he wasn't aware of?

"Yes?" he hesitantly said.

"I'm Detective Carlisle and this is Detective Fraser. Can we come in?" the man asked.

Jake rolled back a foot to clear the path from them to walk into his apartment. The agents looked around for somewhere to sit, but came up empty, so they just stood in the middle of the room.

"What's this about?" Jake asked.

"Are you Jake Sully, brother of Thomas Sully?" Det. Fraser asked.

Jake nodded. "Yeah."

Det. Fraser's voice was sympathetic. "I'm afraid we have some bad news. This won't be easy to hear." She paused, her eyes lingering on Jake's paralyzed legs before she looked into his eyes again. "Your brother was killed last night."

Jake did a double take. Had he just heard right? He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Killed? Tom? Excuse me, what?" he stammered.

"He was found in an alley off of Huntington Street last night. It appears to have been a mugging."

"Whoa, wait. Mugging? Are you sure you have the right guy?"

"Yes, Mr. Sully, we are sure."

It only then dawned on Jake that there was a certain physical resemblance to his brother he easily tended to forget. He swallowed again, almost choking on the lump in his throat.

"My brother's dead?" he whispered.

Fraser nodded sadly.

"How?"

Det. Carlisle now spoke. "He was shot in the chest."

"Please tell me you caught the bastard," Jake said through clenched teeth, sudden anger welling up in his stomach.

"The investigation is still ongoing, but we have some leads."

Jake just shook his head. This couldn't be real. Tommy, dead? What the hell kind of cruel joke was this?

Det. Fraser's voice jerked him from his reverie. "Do you know why your brother might have been in that area last night?"

Jake tried to think. Huntington, wasn't that near the harbor? "He... I think... he worked near there. For the RDA. He sometimes worked late."

He didn't know why he'd said that. After all, he hadn't spoken to Tommy in months, but he remembered that his brother had been complaining about the long hours when they were still on speaking terms. It suddenly made perfect sense—and yet it didn't.

"Did your brother have any enemies or people who might have wanted to harm him?"

Jake frowned, trying to think. He couldn't recall Tom having mentioned anything. "No, I... Not that I know of. Tom and I," he stumbled on the words, "we weren't exactly close lately."

"Do you know what your brother was working on?" Carlisle asked.

"No. I mean, he was part of the Avatar program. He was supposed to ship out to Pandora some time soon. That's all I know."

Fraser nodded, writing something down on a touchpad. "Thank you, Mr. Sully. We also need to inform you that it is procedure that a family member needs to identify the body. You are listed as his only remaining family, is that true?"

Jake nodded.

"Your brother is currently being held at the State Morgue in Billbanks. Would you be able to go there to identify your brother later today?"

Jake nodded again, it was almost an automated reaction. His mind had gone completely blank except for a horrible mental image of his brother lying in a dark alley, bleeding to death. His brow creased in sudden agony.

The detective seemed to have noticed this. Fraser wrote something on the back of a business card and handed it to Jake. "This is my number. If you have any more questions or if you can think of anything else, please call me. The address of the morgue is on the back."

Jake took the card, letting his hands fall into his lap, too drained to speak.

The detectives turned to go, ending another unpleasant but yet somewhat routine call. Crime rates in this city had gone up by 2% over the last year.

Jake watched the door close behind them, his fingers absently running over the small piece of printed cardboard in his hand. It was painful—the only reminder that what he had just witnessed hadn't just been a bad dream.

—==''''==—

"Yo, Sully, go!" one of the customers cheered. Near the pool table, Jake was balancing his chair, front wheels off the ground, while holding a tequila shot on his forehead. Some of the onlookers started clapping and whooping.

Jake grabbed the glass and slammed down the shot, accompanied by more cheers. He turned his wheelchair around with a stupid grin on his face. The rowdy bar wasn't quite the place you'd bring your mom, but it was one of the few places these days where Jake felt comfortable. And the one place he knew he might be able to forget, if only for a few hours.

He turned his attention to the wall-sized screen, which was showing the World Cup game—men running on antelope legs. His expression became stony. It was another reminder of what he couldn't have. He tried to push the thought away. He didn't want anyone's pity because he knew better than anyone that this world was a cold-ass bitch.

A noise at the bar captured Jake's attention. Through gaps in the crowd he could get a glimpse of a couple sitting on barstools. He watched how the man slapped the woman he was with. Hard. She cowered but the man got her arm and raised his fist, shouting. It was an eternal tableau, one that Jake had witnessed one too many times. Most people looked away, but not Jake. Not this time.

This was what humanity had come to. If you wanted a fair deal, you were on the wrong planet. The strong preyed on the weak. It was just the way things were, and nobody made an effort to change it. Jake made a quick decision, starting to push the wheels of his chair.

Next to the bullying man, Jake stopped. No one took any notice of him. He leaned down and grabbed the leg of the man's barstool, yanking at it. The chair flipped and the man went down hard. Sudden rage flaming in his gut, Jake hurled himself from the wheelchair, toppling on the guy. He got a grip on him like a pit bull and started punching the crap out of him, right there on the floor.

The people around them jumped back in surprise and shock, some of them gasping. Jake got in a number of good punches before a bouncer jumped in and tried to drag him off the man. More people started pulling at Jake, voices were yelling now, but Jake didn't hear anything but red hot blood rushing in his ears.

It took some struggling to get Jake off the guy. The bouncer didn't bother putting him back in the wheelchair. He dragged him straight to the back door, hurling him out, which sent Jake sprawling on the cold and wet pavement. A moment later, his chair crashed down on him, banging across the alley, landing near the trash cans.

It had been a while since he'd been thrown out of an establishment, but Jake smiled inwardly at the irony despite the adrenaline still coursing through his blood. He struggled to rise on one elbow, bleeding and bruised, but still crazed and ready to fight.

"I hope you realize you've just lost a customer!" he yelled at the bouncer, who vanished inside with a disdainful sneer on his face.

Jake collapsed onto his back, panting. To himself, he muttered, "Candy ass bitch."

He stared upward at the levels of the city. Magtrains roared overhead like illuminated shooting stars against a vista of gray geometry. As if perfectly timed, it started to rain. 'Outstanding,' Jake thought, lying there, blinking.

A hollow laugh escaped his lips. "If it ain't rainin', we ain't trainin'!" he shouted jauntily to no one in particular. More than ever, he longed for the one thing he had ever wanted in his sorry-ass life—a single thing worth fighting for.

Too riled up to make the effort of finding his wheelchair, he kept lying spread-eagled on the ground, raindrops pouring down from overhead. He could feel his t-shirt getting drenched against his torso.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he could see shadows approaching. Steps came closer and came to rest next to him. He could make out two pairs of shiny shoes. He squinted up at two men in matching suits and trench coats, their features reminiscent of unremarkable and blandly threatening  FBI agents and auditors.

"Are you Jake Sully?" the agent on the left asked.

"Step off. You're ruinin' my good mood."

"It's about your brother," the other agent said.

"What, are you here to collect on his debts or something?"

Agent no. 1 spoke again, undeterred by Jake's sarcastic comment. "Are you aware of the fact that your brother signed a contract with the RDA?"

"Vaguely," Jake said. "What does the RDA have to do with this?"

"Then you also realize that the RDA manufactured an avatar body from his DNA."

"Yeah, unless you mean in scientific detail. What are you getting at?"

The agent on the right went over to where Jake's chair lay on its side and put it next to Jake, who had propped his torso up, leaning back on his hands.

"Mr. Sully, we would prefer if you could come with us so we can explain the details to you in more appropriate surroundings."

"The fuck I'm going with you without seeing some kind of identification."

The agents were clearly getting irritated now. Agent no. 1 held out an ID card. Jake took it, turning it over to read it in the dim light. "Corporate Investigation Agency? This doesn't tell me a damn thing."

"We are here on behalf of the RDA. They would like to offer you the opportunity of taking over your brother's contract."

Jake's laughed mockingly. "Yeah, right. Have you looked at me lately? Why would the RDA want to fly a cripple out into space? This is total bullshit."

Agent no. 2 answered in an annoyingly calm voice. "We regret that you seem to think this is a joke. The RDA is taking this offer very seriously."

"The RDA can go screw itself," Jake hissed. "My brother would still be alive if it wasn't for their idiotic remotely controlled creature shit. You can go and tell them I said this: Fuck you and leave me alone."

"That is very unfortunate, Mr. Sully. We would—"

"What part of _'fuck you and leave me alone'_ did you not understand?!" Jake interrupted, raising his voice.

"Very well," Agent no. 1 said. He fished a business card out of his coat pocket and held it out to Jake. "Please contact us if you change your mind."

Jake took it and demonstratively ripped it up in front of the agents' eyes, letting the pieces fall into the puddles of rain next to him.

The agents gave him one last pitying look and then walked away.

Jake continued to sit in the rain for a long time, his thoughts revolving around his brother and the exchange he had just participated in. Questions started forming in his head, and there was a flicker of doubt whether his initial response of sending the agents away without hearing more details about their offer had been the right thing to do. However, as he continued to think about Tommy's death, it wasn't hard for Jake to push the notion away.

—==''''==—

Today he would bury his brother. Jake felt trapped in a nightmare. It was still so unreal, the idea that Tommy was dead. He kept thinking that he'd come home and activate the vid panel to give Tommy a call, and his brother would be there on the screen, trying to pretend he was still mad at him. But murdered in an alley somewhere? It just wasn't fathomable.

Jake looked at the note with the address on it he had hastily scribbled down. The trip down here to the crematorium had been a blur, but nothing could bring you back to reality quite like the smell of unclean air and the unhealthy noise of the city.

At the uninviting glass door, a guy behind a window buzzed him in, separated from the outside world by a plexiglass pane equipped with a microphone and loudspeaker. Clinical anonymity at its best. Jake explained to him the reason why he was here, and he heard the tinny voice say, "Please wait here, a technician will come and get you in a minute."

The minute was more like five that seemed to stretch into eternity. Jake watched the guy behind the window, who was stupefyingly playing some sort of video game on his vid screen, blowing heads off of less than scary looking monsters. 'Wonderful,' Jake thought. Just the right way to attune yourself to entering a crematorium.

The technician finally arrived and let Jake in. Jake followed him to the elevator in the hall which took them to the basement. Neon lights overhead illuminated a comfortless world without sunlight where metal doors branched off the dreary gray hallway. They entered the one that said 'Furnace Room'. Jake felt strangely detached from reality.

"Mr. Sully," he suddenly heard a vaguely familiar voice that he hadn't expected.

He looked up—and there they were again, the two agents from the night before. Jake stopped his wheelchair. Fucking vultures, it was just like them to turn up here, in this place, at this moment. Did the RDA have no scruples?

"We never got to finish our conversation last night," Agent no. 2 said.

"Yes, we did," Jake retorted and wheeled past them in disregard.

A row of stainless steel furnaces greeted his sight and he saw a large, rectangular cardboard box standing on an elevated grate in front of furnace number 5. Jake wheeled closer, coming to rest next to the cardboard coffin. The technician opened the box and drew back the black plastic foil covering the body inside. Jake wasn't prepared for this moment, and it was as if he was watching events unfold in a movie. He stared down at a dead man's face. His own face—or a clean-shaven version of it.

It was unmistakably Tom, looking just like he had the day before, when Jake had to identify him in an anonymous, cold hospital morgue. It suddenly hit Jake. There was no doubt anymore. No dream. No nightmare. Except... it was.

"Jesus, Tommy," he murmured.

Standing by, watching, the agents were getting restless. Breaking the silence, Agent no. 1's voice reverberated off the concrete walls. "The RDA will pay for the standard cremation. We take it that this is the method of choice for your brother's burial." It wasn't a question.

Jake swallowed, barely registering the agent's words. The only cemeteries where they still did interments were way outside of the cities. Embalming had become so rare that hardly any morticians offered it anymore. And if they did, it cost you a fortune and a half. No way Jake could come up with that kind of money.

He tried to imagine what Tommy would have wanted, but they had never talked about this. Then he vaguely remembered his brother, the eternal scientist, had once told him that he didn't believe in life after death, that once your life was over, it was over. Jake hoped it meant that to Tom it wouldn't make a difference how his body would be put to rest.

One of the agents nodded to the technician and the plastic cover was placed back over Tom's head. The lid of the cardboard box closed and the attendant started sealing the box with a tape dispenser—like a package for shipping. The cardboard coffin with the barcode number 976323 was rolled into the furnace.

Agent no. 2 spoke. "Your brother represented a significant investment. We'd like to talk to you about taking over his contract."

Agent no. 1 chimed in. "Since your genome is identical to his, you could step into his shoes. So to speak. It'd be a fresh start, on a new world. And the pay is good."

"Very good," Agent no. 2 added.

Jake was once again reminded just how cruel this world had become. "Can you give me a fucking moment!" he snapped.

"We'll be waiting outside." The agents retreated and stepped out of the room.

The technician pushed a black button on the furnace's control panel, igniting the row of powerful burners along the coffin's bottom and top edges. An orange glow emanated from the furnace window and the flames started eating away the cardboard. Black soot began to cover the window, obstructing the view.

Jake stared at it for a long time, listening to the whooshing of the gas-powered flames. The strong preyed on the weak. A guy with a gun took all Tommy would ever be, for the cash in his pocket. How was that fair? Tommy didn't deserve this. If anyone deserved to die, it was Jake. Why did it have to be Tommy? Jake bit back angry tears before they could well up.

So they wanted him to continue Tom's legacy. The Suits' concern was touching, but totally bogus. Stupid fuckers, all they were worried about was losing the millions they had already spent.

Jake let out a quick breath through his nose. The egghead and the jarhead. Tommy was the scientist, not him. His brother was the one who wanted to get shot light-years out into space to find the answers. Him—he was just another dumb grunt, getting sent someplace he was going to regret.

Was he really ready to go out there and take Tommy's place? What did he still have left on earth that was worth staying for? He figured Pandora couldn't be any more of a hellhole than the one he was already living his aimless life in.

Pushing the wheels of his chair, he approached the door. It couldn't hurt to listen to what the RDA had to offer, could it?

—==''''==—

The essentials of Jake Sully's life fit comfortably into an army bag. A few shirts, pants, underwear. Shoes too, although he didn't consider them a necessity. The trip to Pandora had been postponed for two weeks, something to do with a leakage in the spacecraft's coolant tank. As Jake gathered his belongings for the trip down to the RDA compound out in North Ridge, a perky newscaster's voice droned away in the background on his wall-screen.

"The Bengal tiger, extinct for over a century, is making a comeback. These cloned tiger cubs at the Beijing Zoo are—"

The commentator's voice was interrupted by a beeping sound and Jake wheeled over to the screen. A flashing yellow icon was indicating he had an incoming message. He activated it and his heart almost stopped.

His brother's face was looking back at him. It took him a few seconds to realize it was a recorded video message and not a real-time call. He realized he had held his breath and quickly sucked in a lungful of the refiltered air.

Still in shock, he watched the screen intently as his brother started speaking. "Jake, I hope you get this. When you do, hopefully, I'll already be on the way to Pandora. I don't know if you even wanna hear any of this, but I didn't want to leave things as they were the last time we met. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I said.

"Looking back now, I know you've never had it easy, and I guess some of what you said to me that day has truth to it. I wish I had done a lot of things differently and paid a little more attention. And shredded your ass a little less." On the screen Tom broke into a grin, which faded quickly. "But most of all, I wish I could have said a proper goodbye to you.

"We're gearing up now, the shuttle's leaving in just over a week, and everyone's recording last messages to their loved ones. Geez, that sounds so corny. Love—that word never really came up between us, did it? Probably because we were too busy battling each other for who'd get the most attention. But, well, here I am, recording my last message for you. For a while, anyway."

Little did Tommy know it _would_ be his last message. Ever. Sudden tears filled Jake's eyes and the face of his brother blurred. When he blinked, they dislodged and he let them stream down his cheeks.

"Okay, so... Like I said, we're leaving soon, and then it'll be six years in space. It's kind of a scary thought. I mean, do we really know what happens in cryo? Are you aware of things? Do you dream? Or is it more like in a coma? Guess I'll know soon enough.

"I saw my avatar today. It's still tiny, like a 10-year-old child, except that it's blue. Hard to believe I'm gonna be operating it. They call it 'driving'. I'm gonna be an avatar driver. And I'm not the only one, there's this guy I'm sure I mentioned before, Norm, who's also gonna be on Dr. Augustine's team. He's kind of a nerd, but," Tom broke into a grin, "I guess so am I."

Jake had to smile along with his brother, feeling the salty tears drying on his skin. There were a lot of attributes Jake would have associated with this brother, but nerdy wasn't one of them.

"Oh, before I forget, I'm attaching a file to this message. You can send me text or video messages through the link-up specs in that file, but there's no real-time capabilities. They told me it takes three to four weeks for a message to reach us out there, but, well, I guess it's better than nothing. So, anyway, if you wanna get in touch, you'll know how."

Tom was turning his head around; something was obviously capturing his attention in the room he had recorded this message in. He looked back into the camera. "Listen, I gotta go. Again, Jake, I'm sorry. For everything. I hope you'll be doing okay. Please promise me you're not gonna get in trouble, okay? Hope to speak to you soon. Say, in six or so years. Take care. Bye."

New tears welled up, but Jake fought to swallow them down. "Thank you, Tommy," he whispered to the now blank screen. It had eaten at him that the last thing they'd ever said to each other were accusations and harsh words. Now he knew Tom had made some kind of peace with what he'd said, having voiced his regrets to his brother.

Jake felt infinitely grateful, and he wished he'd had a way to convey to Tom the things that were on his mind. Somehow, even though he didn't believe in any of that paranormal, spiritual stuff, he was hoping that the silent speech he had uttered when he was watching his brother's cardboard coffin disintegrate in the crematorium's furnace had reached Tom somehow.

Pandora. He would be going there in his brother's stead. It hadn't even fully sunk in yet, but Jake suddenly knew that it had been the right decision. This had been Tom's dream, and he would be damned if he'd not at least give it a shot to continue his brother's legacy.

He didn't have a clue as to what would be awaiting him there. He hadn't had any training. He had no idea what being an avatar driver would entail. He would be the odd one out. He smiled. It wasn't as if that was anything new.

"Okay, Pandora, here I come," he muttered.

Who knew, maybe it wouldn't be just another hellhole after all.


End file.
